Take a Bow
by Crimson Drake
Summary: TrowaxQuatre (3x4): Quatre must tell Trowa he loves him, but will he accept his love?


Disclaimer: I don't own any of the GW characters. This songfic was written to the lyrics of Madonna's Take a Bow. My first songfic! ^-^ There is implication of rape in this fic, so if you are offended by that, please do not read this. Thank you for heeding my warning!  
  
Take a Bow  
  
*Take a bow, the night is over  
This masquerade is getting older.  
Lights are low, the curtains down.  
There's no one here --- no one in the crowd.*  
  
Quatre shoved his hands in his pockets, fighting the chill that seemed to creep into his bones. He shivered as a draft reached him. The circus tent wasn't exactly warm, but it was much more desirable than the climate outside. The previous crowd had warmed it somewhat with their body heat.  
  
He cast his oceanic eyes to the empty stage, which glowed faintly in the dim lights overhead. His expression softened as he remembered Trowa's performance on it earlier. The boy was so beautiful when he moved, seemingly weightless as he propelled himself through the air. Even though apparently cumbersome in his clown suit, he moved with a grace that belied his character.  
  
Someone moved beside him and he turned to look. It was an old janitor, back stooped as he sent a broom over the littered earthen floor. Quatre wondered if anyone ever appreciated him for what he did, or if he was treated like the refuse he cleaned up. Just like the Gundam pilots.   
  
"Quatre," came a soft voice from behind him. He regarded Catherine as she reached out to greet him.  
  
"Hey," he replied, returning the familiar embrace.   
  
"Trowa's in the camper washing off his makeup. You're welcome to go and see him." She smiled, an uncannily sweet expression.  
  
"Thanks. I think I'll do that. You're sure he's not busy?"  
  
She cocked her head to the side, light brown curls touching one shoulder. "He's never too busy for you. Now get moving!" Catherine laughed as she goaded him on.  
  
"I'm going!" He smiled at her light-hearted banter.  
  
When he emerged from the main tent, he was blasted with a current of cold air. Snow had begun to fall. It dusted the ground like a veil of the finest white lace. He flicked out his tongue in order to catch a mouthful of the arctic raindrops. Of course they disappeared before he could even retract his tongue and taste them, but it still made him smile. He had always loved the snow. Being a desert child, he hadn't seen much.  
  
He dodged a line of elephants as he continued his short journey to Trowa's camper. He stood before the door, his fist poised as if to knock. Taking a deep breath of nervousness, he rapped gently on the metal entrance.  
  
"Come in," said a deep, nonchalant voice from inside.  
  
Quatre entered. It felt good to be inside after his short trek through the cold. He shook the fine layer of snow from his jacket and took it off.   
  
Trowa sat before a big mirror, which was surrounded with glowing yellow lights. He had removed his mask and washed the paste from his handsome face. Long fingers went up to scratch away the faintest tracing of white makeup on his mouth. Lifeless emerald eyes met Quatre's. "Hello. It's good to see you. I had heard nothing of your arrival."  
  
"Yeah, sorry about that. I just finished my mission a day ago, and I had a couple of wounds to take care of before I could make it here. I didn't have time to send a message."  
  
"Ah." His eyes flicked back to the mirror.  
  
The blonde smiled as his discomfort grew. *How the hell am I gonna admit this to Trowa? He's so... cold! He would never want me. Why did I even come?*  
  
"How have you been, Trowa?"  
  
He shrugged, a barely discernible movement of his narrow shoulders. "The same."  
  
*Say your lines, but do you feel them?  
Do you mean what you say when there's no one around  
Watching you watching me?  
You're one lonely star --- you don't know who you are.*  
  
Quatre could tell that there was something bothering the boy. No one else would have noticed, but Quatre knew everything that had to do with Trowa's body language. The way he stared listlessly at himself in the mirror, how he constantly scrubbed at his face even thought the makeup was already gone, and the way he sat as still as a statue --- all of it told the blonde that his friend was troubled.  
  
Of course, it was highly unlikely that the boy would tell him his problems. Yet being his friend, he had to at least make an effort. "Trowa, I missed you."  
  
"Oh?" He said it with a chilled nonchalance, but Quatre recognized the disbelieving undertone in that voice.  
  
"I did. A lot. I always miss you." He smiled at the face in the mirror.  
  
"I missed you as well."  
  
Quatre nearly soared with elation. "Really?"  
  
Trowa's verdant eyes left their reflection to repose on his comrade's deep aqua orbs. "Yes."  
  
"I'm happy to hear that. You put on a great show today. You seem to get better every time." He sat down on a stool beside him and picked up his mask. "You always look so controlled and graceful, as if you were born to perform in the physical arts." He looked down at the mask in his hand.  
  
Trowa's back stiffened, and he took the mask back. It was not an angry movement, but more of a panicked reaction. His long fingers closed around the heavy porcelain vizard. "I have been well trained."  
  
"Admit it. You're just naturally good at it." *God he's so beautiful. Does he know what he is doing to me, just looking at me with those gorgeous eyes? I want to touch him, comfort him.*  
  
"Thank you, Quatre Winner."  
  
*He always says my last name when he wants to be left alone, but this time I'm not leaving. Not until I've told him what I've come to say.* "You're welcome, Trowa Barton. You know, I think you're so beautiful."  
  
Those ivy-shaded orbs rested on him. "Beautiful?"  
  
He nodded. "Very beautiful. You're like a star."  
  
"I'm not famous."  
  
Quatre chuckled and shook his head. "Don't be so literal. I mean a star, like in the sky. Except lonely. You know, like when the sky is so cloudy that only the brightest can shine through. It's so lovely, up there in the darkness, but it's also so alone."  
  
Trowa swallowed visibly and quickly averted his gaze. "I... I'm not like that."  
  
The blonde smiled. "You might not think so, but it's how I see you."  
  
"I'm one of the stars that are obscured by the clouds." He paused as if to think. "No, I'm one of the stars that are so dull that their light never reaches the earth."  
  
Quatre sat back in disbelief. "No, Trowa! You're so..." He searched for the right word. "You're so brilliant that you reach through even the darkest night. I wish I was more like you."  
  
"No you don't."  
  
"Yes I do. You make people smile when you do your show. You make them react with happiness. It's something special that you have, Trowa, that most will never have the pleasure of owning. You are special. You have a gift." The angelic blonde leaned forward to place a warm hand on his companion's shoulder.   
  
*Should I tell Trowa that I love him? Would it be wrong? Will he run away, reject me, or actually want my love? He's so wonderful.*  
  
"A gift..." His voice trailed off as he stared into nothing, right through Quatre's head. Suddenly his vision snapped into focus. "Why do you tell me this? That I am beautiful, special, and gifted? I am undeserving of such compliments."  
  
"No Trowa, you are more than deserving. You have earned it." *I need to tell him. Please Lord, give me the courage and the strength to proceed with this pointless masquerade. Even if he won't return my feelings, at least he'll know.*  
  
"Why did you come to see me?" he asked as he turned around to view his spiritless face in the mirror once again.  
  
"I... came to tell you something important. Something that could change our friendship." He restrained himself from running away right then.  
  
"Then tell me. I must get to sleep. We will be moving out early tomorrow morning for the next show."  
  
Quatre sighed shakily. "Trowa, I..." he began. *Damn it! Just say it. Before you can change your mind!* "I love you!" He let it out in one rush of breath.  
  
Trowa's eyes did not react, only drifted from the glass to observe the blonde at his side. "How?"  
  
"How?" What do you mean?"  
  
"How do you love me? As a friend, as a brother, as a performer...?"  
  
"Trowa, you know what I mean. I love you as a lover. As more than a friend or a brother."   
  
"Is that so?" He stood, one of the only movements he had made since Quatre had entered the room. "How can you love something you don't know?"  
  
*I've always been in love with you; always with you  
I guess you've always known it's true.  
You took my love for granted  
Why --- Oh why do wishes always say goodbye?*  
  
"I know you better than anyone ever has, or ever will. I want you so badly that it hurts to look at you."   
  
The silent pilot turned his back on the boy and ran a slender hand through his long mahogany bangs. "You don't know me," he stated once again. "If you did, then you wouldn't want me."  
  
Quatre stood and grabbed his shoulder gently, turning him back around. He was thoroughly shocked by the look of pain in his comrade's emerald eyes. "Trowa, I love you. Not your past. You." His voice was a desperate, begging whisper.  
  
"My past is a part of me. A part of me that can never be changed." He smiled.   
It was so out of place for him to smile, especially in such a situation, that Quatre could not immediately find words.  
  
*Make them laugh, it comes so easy.  
When you get to the part, boy you're breaking my heart.  
Hide behind your smile  
All the world loves a clown.*  
  
"I can not help what happened to me. I can only help what happens now, in the present, and I will not hurt you. You don't know me Quatre," he explained, resting his cold hand upon the blonde's and brushing it tenderly from his shoulder. "I can't love you. It would be betraying you, for I am undeserving of such an offering."  
  
"No. Don't you see? I love you! All of you. I want you." He grabbed the boy and embraced him roughly. Tears threatened to fall from his eyes. "I need you."  
  
"No." He said it without anger, without sadness, without fear. It was merely cold.   
  
"Trowa!" Quatre embraced him tighter. "Please don't push me away. It would destroy me."  
  
"Destroy you." he stated. "My being with you is what would destroy you."  
  
"How could you say that? I want you more than anything I've ever wanted! Why won't you be with me?"  
  
Trowa didn't want to tell Quatre the truth. Yet he had to, in order to save them both. "I'm filthy. You're fresh."  
  
The blonde backed up and blinked, looking up at his mahogany-banged obsession. "N-nani?"  
  
"I'm filthy." He turned his head to the side, not wishing to reveal the tears that threatened to sprinkle like salty rain from his eyes. "You are too good for me. I would only end up soiling what should be left for cleaner hands."  
  
"Explain, Trowa. Tell me."  
  
Emerald eyes, glistening under a fine film of tears, looked down at him in silent screams of pain. "You would run from me."  
  
"No. Never." So much pain, so much mental torture. *All I've ever wanted is to hold him. Make him smile. Make those lifeless green eyes show emotion because of me.*  
  
"Leave, Quatre. Before you hurt the both of us with your love."  
  
He shook his head, golden bangs falling into oceanic blue eyes. "I said no. At least not until you give me a very good reason why I shouldn't kiss you right here and now."  
  
Heavy Arms' pilot gently twisted his way out of the blonde's embrace and stood, crossing his arms over his bare chest. "You have pushed me into telling you, into making you run away. If you must know, then I must tell you." His fingernails dug into the ivory-white skin of his biceps. "I've been raped."  
  
Quatre's mouth dropped open in shock. "Oh my God..."  
  
"By mercenaries not many years ago. Over and over. Again and again. Until I was sure I was going to die from blood loss and pain." He spoke as if reciting versus from History, voice as impassive as always. "At first it was only obscene phrases from a group of the men whenever I passed by. Eventually it became advances. They would look at me, say dirty things to me, touch me..."  
  
"My Trowa." Quatre tried to approach him.  
  
He held up a hand to retrain him. "I'm not finished."  
  
*My poor Trowa! Let me hold you!* "Continue."  
  
"One day, I guess they just broke. They attacked. At least five of them. Yes, I believe there were five." His eyes grew distant. "My clothes were ripped from my body as if they were mere threads of paper. Three pinned me down while two would use me as a man does a woman, searing into me with enough force to rip me apart. The other would order me to do things to him, threatening my life. Of course right then I didn't care if I died or not, so I wouldn't do it. My lack of enthusiasm caused me to be beaten like a disloyal dog." He looked down at his hands, at the flesh under his fingernails where they had bitten into his arms. "But they wouldn't kill me. I was like an object to them. A reusable object."  
  
Quatre had never heard Trowa say so much at one time. Yet it did not make him happy. His eyes were wide with terror, mouth open and appalled. "I... you... Oh my God Trowa!"   
  
"Don't touch me, Quatre, or I may taint you with my poison. One so clean should never have to touch such filth."   
  
The angelic blonde's eyes clouded over like a storm. He grabbed Trowa's arms and crushed the boy's slight body into his own. "Don't EVER talk like that again. You are NOT filthy!"  
  
iI can't let you fall in love with me, Quatre. You are much too much. Much more than I could ever handle, or hope to receive. I love you, but I can not let you be with someone such as I./i "Please, don't do this. I don't want to have to make you get out. Just go willingly."  
  
"No. I will never leave you."   
  
"Leave!"  
  
The sudden outburst from Trowa caused the golden-maned pilot to stumble back in surprise. "Why? Why do you refuse me?"  
  
"Get out! I don't want you!" iPlease understand that I am doing this for you, Quatre./i  
  
"No, my love. You're the only one..." The tears fell freely down his cherubic face.  
  
"Leave," he said, calmer now.   
  
*Wish you well --- I can not stay.  
You deserve an award for the role that you played  
No more masquerades  
You're one lonely star --- you don't know who you are.*  
  
"Please, Trowa. I'm begging you." He got down on his knees, a ruler pleading for love. "Don't do this. I love you."  
  
Trowa turned his handsome face away, unable to look into those tormented blue orbs any longer. "Go."  
  
Quatre stood on trembling legs and put on his jacket. "If you ever change your mind..." He let his voice trail off like the wind after a storm.   
  
"Just leave."  
  
*I've always been in love with you.  
I guess you've always known it's true.  
You took my love for granted  
Why --- Oh why do wishes always say goodbye?*  
  
Quatre ran from the tiny camper among a storm of tears and pain. *Why, Trowa? It makes no difference what happened to you with those mercenaries! I want you just as much as ever! I'll never love anyone else as I love you. Don't push me away. You're not filthy. You're not soiled. You are just confused.*  
  
He wanted to say these things to the boy's face, but he knew that it was already too late. He should never have left the small room, where he had confessed his love and been denied it. Comfort was what Trowa needed.  
  
He didn't even notice Catherine as she called out to him, concerned. He didn't notice the cold air as it reddened his skin, or the snow that blanketed him. He didn't care that the night was bitter. All he wanted was Trowa.  
  
*All the world is a stage  
And everyone has left.  
But how I to know which way the story goes?  
How was I to know you'd break my heart?  
  
I've always been in love with you  
I guess you've always known it's true  
You took my love for granted   
Why --- Oh why do wishes always say goodbye?  
Say goodbye.  
Say goodbye.* 


End file.
